Dirge of the Unforgiven
by JVNemesis
Summary: The weavings of fate have many branches. Not all of them lead to the happily ever after ending, however. Sometimes, cruel twists lead to darker paths. OC centric Oneshot. Avoid if phobic.


This was for a little contest on another website, and I figured I'd upload it here to proven I haven't been idle for the past month. Read it and weep/enjoy. Whatever you like. And I finally figured out how to put that line in. Awesome.

* * *

The _Exodus_ was burning, and Rhomand knew he was going to die.

The vulpine weaved his way through the darkened corridors, fear lending his feet speed as he dodged around the sparking wires. The warning klaxons had been silenced, but the crimson emergency lights still spun, casting a bloody pallor over everything.

The _Exodus_ was falling apart; she'd placed charges at very specific points on the ship, and now it was only a matter of time before they lost atmospheric pressure and everyone died.

She was coming for him. He knew it. He didn't know why, but she was.

There were stories whispered about her; the monster in the dark, the implacable wraith. Utterly merciless and as infamous as the long gone Starwolf, she was a legend in her own right.

Some of the stories told of how she had once been a hero, a friend of the legendary Starfox and righteous defender of Lylat's freedom. She had been hailed as a savior many times, and was a shining example of sacrifice and selflessness.

The rest of the stories spoke of her corruption, her descent into darkness, and the shadow that fell across the galaxy.

It was almost like a bad horror movie, except it was quite real.

Rhomand's eyes twitched back and forth, watching for any signs of movement. His hand was clenched tightly around the grip of his pistol.

There was a corpse at the end of the hall, the limbs splayed awkwardly in death. Something was splattered across the body and the floor, and it was quite obvious exactly what the crimson liquid was. Rhomand averted his eyes; he didn't want to know who it was, and looking too closely at bodies was always a bad idea.

He'd seen all those movies.

The vulpine moved slowly past the body, which he could tell, from a brief glance, was a woman.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

A door creaked behind him.

Rhomand spun, his eyes flying open. The vulpine slipped mid-motion on the blood coating the deck plating and fell with a loud crash. A sharp pain flared through his ankle as his foot twisted awkwardly. His pistol went spinning from his hand and into a dark crevasse between the floor panels.

From his vulnerable position on the ground, Rhomand's wide eyes jerked back to the door...

And found it slightly ajar, and nothing more.

The burning _Exodus_ rumbled, the narrow corridor vibrating as the ship fell apart.

Rhomand dragged himself upright, whimpering against the pain in his ankle. The vulpine stared nervously at the door, waiting for something to happen. This was always the part in the movie, where the hero was helpless, that the villain appeared.

Was she there?

The impenetrable blackness spilling from beyond the portal gave no answers. It returned his stare silently. There was no other noise, and that scared Rhomand far more than he'd ever admit.

The vulpine began to limp down the hall, shooting glances back over his shoulder.

The darkness remained silent and undisturbed.

As he moved, Rhomand's hand brushed his holster, and he stopped, eyes closing in frustration.

His empty holster.

He'd left his pistol.

It had skittered into the hole, and he'd forgotten about it. And now, unless he wanted to leave it and pull one of those stunts in the movies he always yelled about, he had to go back.

Rhomand wavered.

If she were there, he'd be dead already.

The _Exodus _rumbled and burned.

With agonizing slowness, Rhomand inched his way back down the hall, his eyes never leaving the darkened corridor beyond the door.

Nothing moved.

The vulpine eased forward again until he was next to the space between the floor panels. He thrust his left hand down to the bottom of the gap, groping for his weapon.

The darkness didn't shift.

And yet Rhomand's tension increased anyway. He was pushing his luck waiting here. If even half of the stories about her were true, he wouldn't stand a chance, gun or not. But the weapon was a comfort; it made him feel at least partially in control.

Even though he knew he wasn't.

Now, where the hell_ was_ his gun? The space wasn't all that big.

Rhomand ran his hand over the sides of the gap, searching.

Where could it be? Did it fall into a different section, and he didn't notice?

The _Exodus_ shuddered again, the door creaked, and Rhomand's nerve fled.

The vulpine scrambled to his feet, abandoning his lost weapon and limping off down the hall, face burning with shame.

_Coward,_ he raged at himself. _She's not even there!_

Despite his ranting, he didn't turn back. Rhomand kept going, now weaponless.

He didn't know why she was after him. He didn't even know how she had found him. It was a refugee ship, for God's sake! There wasn't even a passenger manifest! _He_ hadn't even known he'd be on it until twenty seconds before he boarded!

He was just a guy, barely into his twenties, not even out of school yet! He watched movies and played video games in his spare time. He didn't even have a girlfriend! He'd taken a gun off a dead soldier when Katina had been submerged in the neurotoxin, and he couldn't shoot it to save his life! He was no one!

So why him?

He had the clarity to know that she most likely would not deign to tell him.

Rhomand stumbled and gave a whimper of pain as his injured ankle protested its treatment.

A shattered power conduit hanging beside him crackled and sparked loudly, and the vulpine jumped a foot in the air with a high-pitched yelp.

Then he came back down out of the air and landed on his wounded foot, eliciting another howl from Rhomand. Only after the noise had left his mouth did he realize he'd as good as shouted where he was.

The vulpine hopped along, using the wall to support himself and keep his weight off his injured limb. He glanced back once at the darkened door.

The _Exodus_ shuddered again, and the door swung closed.

Rhomand kept moving, and did not look back again.

The heavy _thud_ that accompanied his hopping made him wince every time his weight came down, even though he knew it wouldn't make a difference. If she were close enough to hear him tromping around, she would already know he was there.

Forget being quiet. He had to get to the escape ships.

The _Exodus_ rumbled again, louder this time, as the vulpine turned a corner and stopped dead. A scene both awe-inspiring and terrifying met his eyes.

Nearly a dozen of the Katinan soldiers who had accompanied the refugee ship lay dead, their corpses scattered across the floor. Their weapons were strewed around the ground haphazardly, obviously just dropped upon the death of their owners. Each of the bodies seemed to have just a single wound; one perfectly lethal blow to various spots. Rhomand's horrified eyes took in these details, then the vulpine's gaze moved upward.

Two figures stood at the opposite end of the hall; one male, one female, both vulpines. The white-furred male was gasping for breath, and there was a bitter smile on his lips. The vixen, her back to Rhomand, stood with an arm draped casually around his neck and shoulders, almost in a friendly hug.

Her other hand held a blazing beam of light identical in hue to the blood staining her surroundings, which was skewering the white vulpine up through his chest.

She whispered something in the dying vulpine's ear, then easily slid her sword of red energy out of the wound in his chest, extinguishing the weapon with a flourish.

The white fox did not cry out in pain. He remained on his feet for a moment, wavering and staring fearlessly into his killer's eyes. His mouth opened, but only blood gushed forth. He reached out and clung to the vixen's shoulders as his knees buckled, trying to hold himself up as he mouthed his final words.

The vixen watched him for a moment, then gently removed his arms and dropped the vulpine to the ground.

The white fox convulsed once, and then lay still. His white fur slowly darkened to a rich red as his blood flowed.

And then the vixen turned slowly to face the transfixed Rhomand, and the vulpine knew this was the movie climax, and this was Anaiya.

The vixen's shining, one of a kind silver fur rippled luxuriously as she approached him slowly, her footsteps echoing solidly with every step.

Her movement couldn't be so easily dismissed as walking; the smooth, flowing gait was relaxed and easy, and at the same time tight as a coiled spring, ready to explode into motion.

She wore a black, very tight-fitting combat suit that many a man would gladly ogle; a wide strip around her middle was removed, as well as her sleeves, to show off her lithe muscles and alluring form. A long, flowing cloak extended from her shoulders to trail along the floor behind her, easily large enough to wrap completely around her.

The extinguished hilt of her energy sword was already hanging on her belt. She wore no other weapons.

And then Rhomand's gaze found her eyes.

They were jagged chips of frozen steel, green as the purest emerald and colder than a blizzard. They struck Rhomand with an almost supernatural intensity, burning with barely restrained hate.

And, he realized, with sorrow.

Rhomand had always been adept at reading people's eyes. It was a talent of his, to decipher people's inner feelings so easily. Her eyes showed him her hidden sadness and self-loathing, her remorse, and her pity.

And as he realized this, Rhomand's fear evaporated.

The _Exodus_ rumbled again.

Maybe he'd been wrong about this movie's end.

Anaiya stopped a dozen feet away, her head tilted slightly as she observed him.

"You understand, of course," she said, her voice alluring and light in sharp contrast to her eyes, "that I won't let you live, right?"

Rhomand started, confused. "You were going to kill me anyway, though. You came here for me."

The vixen assassin watched him for a moment longer.

Then barked a short, harsh laugh.

"Kid, I don't even know who you are," she said in slight amusement. "I came here to dispatch the last of my kin." She indicated the fallen white fox. "You will merely be collateral damage."

Rhomand suddenly had the urge to laugh out loud, but restrained himself.

How foolish he'd been. For some reason, he was suddenly seeing everything much clearer.

Perhaps that was what imminent death did for you.

His eyes fell to his feet and fastened on the abandoned rifle next to him.

He was no longer afraid. But she would crush him. Still, he had to try. They always did it in the movies.

Anaiya smirked and crossed her arms, waiting.

Rhomand went for it.

He dropped to the ground, feeling a brush of air from somewhere, and snatched up the gun, bringing it to bear on the vixen.

Or, at least, where she had been. The corridor in front of him was empty.

Anaiya made a small noise of amusement.

Rhomand spun around.

The vixen was crouched a few feet away, her back to him. She had moved so quickly it was like she hadn't even bothered with the intervening space.

Nevertheless, Rhomand squeezed the trigger.

And was rewarded with a dry click.

Anaiya waved the energy battery in his direction once before dropping it and straightening up.

"Interesting as that was," she said, her flat tone indicating otherwise," it's time to end this. Is there anything you'd like to say?"

Rhomand blinked, frowning. "Like, my last words? You actually do that?"

The vixen shrugged carelessly. "It's the last thing you'll ever say. I pride myself on being fairly indulgent with the privilege."

Rhomand thought, and thought hard. He wanted it to be something meaningful. The hero's last words always set up the scene for the sequel.

"What," he asked finally, "happened to make you like this?"

One of Anaiya's eyebrows rose.

"An interesting question," she mused. "I suppose I'll have to answer it. It isn't like you're going to tell anyone." The vixen considered.

"Someone I cared about died," she said after a moment, "because I wasn't strong enough to protect them. I had to make a choice between them and someone else I loved. And they both died. Because of me. I realized how weak I was, then, and how I could never achieve what I aimed for."

Her eyes glinted coldly, gleaming in the reflection of the emergency lights. "I made a choice then. I forsook my friends, my family, and everyone I had ever loved. I released all my attachments, and as I did so, I grew stronger. I no longer needed to protect anyone. My hate and anger were all I needed. Eventually, I killed my lover."

She paused for a moment, and Rhomand caught her mouthing the word 'Rein'. "That was the hardest thing I have ever done. The look of loss and betrayal in his eyes shattered every vestige of what I had been. And it was then that I reached the apex of my power. I was unstoppable. I did as I pleased, casting my lot in with whatever side I fancied in whatever war arose, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop me."

Anaiya closed her eyes. "I had two roads to choose from. One was to remain with friends and live as close to a normal life as I could have done, enjoying life and their company in peace, without any of this. The other path was shrouded in darkness and pain; alone, but powerful enough to never be threatened again."

Her eyes opened, and they seemed to glow a bloody crimson. "Attachment is a weakness. I am _not _weak. I made my choice. And now, we're at the end of the line."

Rhomand lowered his head. "I wish you had made the right choice," he whispered.

There was nothing further he could do. It was time for the hero's dramatic exit, defeated by the misguided villain. Perhaps, in the sequel movie, she could be redeemed.

Perhaps.

Anaiya's hand dropped, and Rhomand stared into her eyes.

They were cold and hard. The sorrow was gone.

She had remembered her purpose.

Her energy sword ignited, flashing upward in a blinding arc, and Rhomand knew no more.

And the _Exodus_ burned.

* * *

It's far from perfect, but I wouldn't say it's awful, either. Let me know.


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